


Interruptions

by galaxytamer



Series: reliable sources [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: College AU, Everyone Is Alive, M/M, Other, Stiles has tattoos, and not so broken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 17:32:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1478134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxytamer/pseuds/galaxytamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles deflates, dropping his hand down on the table in exasperation. “All of you suck. Every single one of you. But especially YOU.” He points at Derek. Derek takes another bite of his sandwich.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interruptions

Discussion based classes are not his forte. While occasionally he throws his input into the discussion, he’d much rather listen and observe. And judge. Because sometimes the people in his class say the most _idiotic_ things, and it takes every effort not to snort or roll his eyes. One, that’s rude. He doesn’t really care about that; the nagging sister voice in the back of his head does. Two, the teacher would notice and then _make_ him talk, and that’s exactly what he doesn’t want. So instead he bites back any smart remarks, drawing little doodles around his notes, and listens.

In any case, he enjoys the class. There are even some people who provide a worthwhile opinion every once in a while. Namely, Scott McCall. Derek finds himself actually looking up from his own notes to watch Scott talk. He always looks so earnest, especially when the discussion moves to racism or sexism or just general equality. Even when someone disagrees with him, which actually isn’t too often, Scott dimples a polite smile at them. Derek admires him.

“Hey Derek,” Scott greets him on Friday, and he’s honestly a little startled. He glances up from his binder and sees the other smiling quietly at him as he slips into the seat next to him. They don’t have assigned seats in this class, but Scott usually sits across the room next to a pretty red head. Lydia, he thinks her name is. _She’s_ not so nice when people disagree with her. Derek isn’t sure if he likes her or not. Respects her, at the very least.  

“Hey.”

Silence falls on them for a few minutes while Scott pulls out his notes, and Derek occupies himself with glancing over his own. He feels a little antsy; why did Scott sit next to him? Maybe Lydia isn’t here today.

“Did you understand the reading for today?” Scott asks, and when Derek looks up he notices the other holding the assigned book. It looks pretty worn, dog-eared and full of post-it notes. Derek wonders if Scott bought it used. His own is new and comparatively very nice.

“Yeah. It took me a few hours because of the vocabulary and jargon, but I think I know what she was trying to get across.”

Scott nods, frowning just a bit.

“Did you?” he asks, because while he knows very well that Scott can hold his own in discussion and is definitely intelligent, this book _was_ pretty hard. He thinks he remembers Scott mentioning to Lydia once that he had work after class pretty much every day, and figures it must be hard to balance school with work. He ignores the fact that knowing that makes him a little creepy.

Scott nods again. “I think so? I didn’t put as much time as I should’ve into it. And reading it made me think of all those months I spent studying for the SATs. I didn’t even know half of those words were _words_.”

Derek snorts lightly. “Some people like to overcompensate. I’ll try and answer some of Morrell’s questions today.” For once.

This time Scott beams at him, and Derek realizes, for not the first time, that he really wants to be Scott McCall’s friend.

Lydia walks in soon after. The desk next to Scott is occupied by some guy that Derek never bothered to learn the name of, and Lydia immediately walks over to him and stares him down. Five seconds pass before he stands up and fumbles with his stuff all the way across the circle of desks. Lydia smiles to herself as she sits down next to Scott -- it’s not exactly a nice one. She looks very pleased, and very intimidating.

The class passes quickly. After the entire class came to the agreement that the book sucked, the professor lightened up, so Derek didn’t have to answer as many questions as he expected. He still talks more than usual, and by the end of class Scott looks a lot more relaxed about not quite understanding the material.

“Thanks, man,” Scott says once class ended, packing up his bag next to Derek. “I guess I’m glad I wasn’t the only one confused.” His nose wrinkles some. It’s a little adorable. How is a 20-some year old adorable.

“It’s fine,” Derek replies, right as someone at the door says, “Yo Scott!”

Derek knows that voice. He stands up straighter, and turns to see Stiles, who is already in the room and wrapping an arm around Scott’s shoulders. This is a development. He raises his eyebrows at them both. Scott grins at Stiles, but Stiles is looking at Derek.

“I didn’t know Derek was in your class, dude.” Stiles squeezes Scott’s shoulder tighter, looking a little insulted, and Scott only shakes his head knowingly.

“You would’ve shown up here every day then.” Scott’s grin turns teasing. “Lydia would’ve thought you had it bad for her again.”

Lydia makes a noise of confirmation as she fixes her lipstick with a tiny black mirror.

“I resent that,” Stiles says, dropping his arm from Scott’s shoulders and gripping his backpack straps. He twists around to look at Lydia. “You and I both know that I haven’t liked you for like, a year, right? Maybe two years. Give or take.”

She rolls her eyes, snapping the mirror closed. “Congratulations on realizing ten years of indifference wasn’t just me playing hard to get.”

Stiles offers her a wry smile. “Thanks, Lydia. You’ve always got my back.”

Lydia flips her hair over her shoulder and purses her lips in a way that shows her dimples. “Well, boys. I have class.” She pats Stiles on the chest and struts out of the classroom. Derek wonders briefly how she manages to wear such tall heels daily and still strike fear into the hearts of well, everyone.

“Anyway,” Stiles says, and Derek glances back at him. “You’re just hating on my game.”

Scott’s eyes flicker to Derek, and then back to Stiles. Derek feels his ears heat up. They’re talking about him like he isn’t _right here_ and he thinks he might want to die. He tugs his backpack strap onto his shoulder, means to turn around and get the hell out of there, but Stiles is scoffing and grabbing his wrist.

“No, wait Derek. Come on.” Derek looks at the hand on his wrist, then back up at Stiles, who is glaring at Scott. “See! Cramping my style.” He looks back at Derek, seeming to realize he’s still holding his wrist, and quickly drops it.

“Aren’t you two already going on a date?” Scott asks, smiling innocently. Derek is grateful for the years of having sisters who tormented him; it doesn’t take too much willpower in order to not look startled or blush or do _anything_. He manages to stare flatly at the two and hopes his gaze accurately portrays _what the hell_. How long has he been Stiles’ “game,” anyway?

“And I like Derek, by the way,” Scott adds after a moment, before Stiles can retort.

“And with that lovely sentiment in mind,” Stiles begins, wrapping his arm around Scott’s shoulders again to pull him towards the exit, “we are going to lunch now. I’ll text you!” They’re out the door before Derek can reply. He hears Scott laugh. Right after he hears an _ouch!_ that turns into more laughter.

Derek has a lot to think about. 

\----

Too bad he doesn’t get much time to actually think. About fifteen minutes after seeing Scott and Stiles, he receives a text. From Stiles.

_Sorry about that dude._

Derek’s fingers hover over the screen. After some consideration: _It’s fine._

_Meet for lunch to make it up to you?_

_Where?_ He shoots back, frowning slightly. He isn’t sure if he’s up to being embarrassed again, though he doesn’t think that was Scott’s intention. He’s too nice for that.

The reply is almost instantaneous. _Union w Scott and co._

As if Derek knows who “and co” is. He has the urge to roll his eyes. He has that urge a lot around Stiles. 

_Okay._  

Derek isn’t sure what to expect. Maybe he’s a masochist. No, that’s probably it. Nonetheless, he begins the trek to the Union, using the time to think. He wonders how long Scott knew about Stiles’... crush? on Derek. If maybe that’s why Stiles sat at Derek’s table in the first place, or why he remembered him from Econ. After all, people tend to avoid him. He knows he can be intimidating, especially if he makes it a point to be. Surly expressions and short responses are a simple way to get people to leave him alone. Granted, that didn’t work for Stiles. But Derek has a feeling that when Stiles is told no, he goes and does exactly what he’s not supposed to do.

When Derek reaches the Union, a small feeling of nervousness blooms in his stomach as he searches for where Stiles (and Scott and co) might be. He doesn’t have to look long. Stiles is hard to miss, waving his tattooed arms around across the room. Derek keeps his expression even, approaching the table cautiously.

Scott’s at the table. Next to him is a pretty brunette that has dimples when she smiles. She looks vaguely familiar; maybe he’d seen her around campus? Across from the pair is Stiles, and next to him is -- Isaac? His brows furrow slightly; he didn’t know Isaac was friends with Scott (or Stiles, for that matter), but he isn’t exactly up to date with what he’s doing so much anymore.

As he approaches the table, he realizes he has to choose to sit next to either Scott or Stiles. He chooses Scott, who nods at him and scoots his chair over to give him more room.

“Hey,” Stiles says first, and then gestures between the brunette and Isaac. “This is Allison and --”

“Hi Derek,” Isaac interrupts, and Stiles grimaces and drops his hand heavily back on the table. He turns to face Isaac, utilizing his entire body to show his annoyance.

“Do you two know each other?” he asks, voice sickly sweet.

Derek snorts quietly as he pulls out his lunch from his bag. Everyone else has their food already. He sees Allison steal one of Scott’s fries out of the corner of his eye. Cute.

“That’s a possibility,” Isaac replies, examining his apple and mostly ignoring Stiles.

Stiles’ mouth is hanging open. “Does _everyone_ \--”

“Is Cora coming to eat with us?” Allison suddenly asks, effectively cutting Stiles off, who makes yet another offended noise. Derek would’ve enjoyed Stiles’ reaction more if Cora hadn’t been brought up. The circle just keeps getting smaller and smaller apparently, and both he and Stiles seem to be the only ones on the outside.

“Nope. Lydia has class, so Cora doesn’t care,” Isaac answers, and takes a bite out of his apple. What the hell? Derek either needs to talk to his sister more about her personal life, or he really needs to get into Facebook.  

Stiles seems to have recovered. “Does someone else want to interrupt me?”

When no one responds aside from a snicker or two, Stiles continues: “No, really. I’m all about getting --”

“Interrupted?” Derek suggests. Scott bites his lip to keep from laughing for his friend’s sake, and Derek’s happy about that.

“Funny,” Stiles retorts, making a face at Derek.

“Thanks.” He takes a bite out of his sandwich, lifting his eyebrows challengingly at Stiles.

“So Derek,” Allison says to get his attention. She sounds genuinely curious. “How did you meet everyone?”

He swallows and lowers his sandwich, keeping it in his hands to occupy him. “Scott’s in my Comparative Studies class. I was Isaac’s RA my Sophomore year. And Stiles was apparently in my Econ class last semester.” He glances at Stiles briefly, quirking an eyebrow at him. He’ll let Stiles tell that story if he wants, because _he_ definitely doesn’t know.

“You were Isaac’s RA?” Scott asks at the same time Stiles exclaims, “ _You_ were an _RA_?”

“Yes.” Don’t sound so surprised.

Isaac hums. “I felt bad for him.”

Derek grimaces; being an RA was possibly one of the worst mistakes of his _life_. He still wakes up at night thinking that he’s going to open his door and there will be inflated trash bags _everywhere_. He never figured out who did that, but he has his suspicions about Jackson and his friends. They played _lacrosse_ in the hallway, for Christ’s sake. At _three in the morning_. He hated them all.

“If I remember correctly you were the one who hung around me all the time,” Derek responds dryly, and eats more of his sandwich to swallow the bad memories. At least he still keeps in touch with Erica and Boyd, too. Erica was a handful herself, but when she wanted to she could terrify the rowdy ones into not being complete assholes. Boyd was just chill and didn’t give him shit. Definitely his favorite. They still workout three times a week together.

Isaac shrugs and doesn’t seem too bothered by it. He reaches forward and steals one of Scott’s fries, just like Allison had done. Scott doesn’t even bat an eyelash. What a saint.

“You know, I’ve thought about being an RA,” Scott says. Stiles and Derek frown at the same time.

“I hated it. But I think you’d be good at it,” Derek offers honestly. “Definitely better than me.” Scott has a much better temperament than him. The kids would actually listen to him, and Scott probably wouldn’t get so worked up about things.  

“Don’t encourage him,” Stiles says. He leans forward, biting at the straw in his Coke, and continues talking around it. It’s distracting and a little disgusting. “If you’re an RA we won’t be able to have as much bro time. Or party time. Or _luuuv_ time.” He waves his hand between Isaac and Allison. Oh.

Scott smiles, but it’s Allison who replies. “I’m sure Scott can handle it, Stiles.”

“Doesn't he already see more than enough of you outside of school and work?” Isaac questions casually while looking at Scott.

“Jealousy just isn’t your color, Isaac,” Stiles quips, sipping angrily at his Coke. Derek smirks faintly.

“I said I’ve _thought_ about it, guys,” Scott finally intervenes. “Stiles is right; I won’t have much time outside of classes and work _and_ dealing with RA duties.” Stiles looks appeased, reclining back in his chair.

“I’m glad you’re coming to your senses, my boy.”

Derek rolls his eyes for Scott’s sake.

“Want to elaborate more about how you and Derek met?” Isaac asks, giving Stiles a dry look. He’s grateful Isaac didn’t direct the question at him, at least.

Stiles shrugs, scratching at the back of his neck. There’s that vaguely sheepish expression again. “I’m pretty sure Derek already said we had class together before.”

Derek narrows his eyes; he can catch a bluff when he sees one, and Stiles is definitely hiding something.

“I do recall you saying that class had 700 people in it. Did you guys sit near each other?” Isaac seems to be goading Stiles on, and Derek notices Scott frown slightly at him.

 “Derek is hard to miss,” Stiles explains, directing a quick glare at Isaac, who doesn’t seem affected by it in the least. Isaac _does_ glance at Scott’s frown, and slumps in his seat some. “And I know Cora, too.” As if that explains it.

“Hard to miss?” Derek echoes, a little too amused by Stiles’ pain. As long as he’s not the one being ridiculed, he’s okay with it. He got enough of that already.

Stiles looks back at Derek so quickly that he wonders about whiplash. “What?”

Derek doesn’t bother repeating, just looks expectantly at Stiles. Stiles gestures widely at Derek, keeping his hand propped up on the table, palm facing upwards. “Don’t give me that. I’m not _insulting_ you, either. You’re -- you.” Again, as if that explains it.

“I’m me.”

Stiles deflates, dropping his hand down on the table in exasperation. “All of you suck. Every single one of you. But especially _you_.” He points at Derek. Derek takes another bite of his sandwich.

“You’re one to talk about being hard to miss,” Allison teases, and she reaches forward to poke at Stiles’ outstretched hand. Her finger trails across one of tree branches that blacken Stiles’ skin. Derek follows her finger, taking it as an opportunity to observe his tattoos more intently. Stiles has on a tshirt today, which makes it easier to see the tattoos, but Derek has pointedly ignored the graphic for the most part. _I support Single Moms_. If it wasn’t for the tattoos, Derek would’ve pegged him for a dudebro. Or possibly a middle school boy. At least the shirt looks really old and worn, so maybe he only owns the shirt for sentimental value. He can only hope.

On his right arm, Stiles has a forest in black ink. The ground starts at his bony wrist, and the tips of the trees and various small birds reach nearly to his elbow. His bicep is currently untouched. His left bicep is covered in a multitude of crossing black lines that disappear into his sleeve, while on his forearm he has three thick black bands, with the top one fading into dots. It reminds him of the one on Scott’s arm; they probably got them with each other in mind. He wouldn’t be surprised.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Stiles says. When Derek tears his eyes away from his tattoos, he realizes that Stiles is watching him. They hold each other’s eyes for a little too long; Scott clears his throat, and Stiles looks away before he does.

“Well, that was sweet, but I’m going to be late for class.” Isaac stands up, shouldering his bag, and pushing his trash in Stiles’ direction. Stiles is in the middle of grumbling a curse when Allison pulls the trash onto her own plate so Stiles doesn’t make a fuss.

“I gotta go, too. It was nice meeting you, Derek,” Allison says kindly. She kisses Scott quickly, and when she stands up, she laces her fingers through Isaac’s. Isaac smiles softly at Scott, nods at Derek, and otherwise ignores Stiles before they leave.

“Dude,” Stiles says, looking at Scott. Scott raises his eyebrows questioningly at him, and Stiles just repeats “ _Dude_ ” again, jerking a thumb towards where Isaac and Allison disappeared.

It’s silent for a few moments aside from Stiles and Scott making faces at each other. Finally, Scott sighs.  “Isaac is nice, Stiles. That’s just his humor.” Derek realizes that they had most of the conversation with just their faces.

“He’s not _nice_ , even if that’s ‘just his humor.’” Stiles does air quotes. “He’s an asshole.”

“You would know, right?” Derek jibes.

Stiles grins widely at him, all teeth and sarcasm. Derek returns it.

“Yeah, I would.” Stiles crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at Scott and Derek. “Fine, whatever. I send my blessing. Love, be gay. Do your th _aaa_ ng.”

Scott smiles at Stiles, likely taking his best friend’s words to heart, and Stiles shakes his head fondly at him. “Nope, don’t start. You have work. The feelings train left the station.” He waves his hand at Scott in a shooing motion.

As Scott stands up and gathers his things, his eyes land on Derek. “See you in class Monday?”  Derek nods in response, and Scott continues, looking slightly devious: “Make sure you tell me about _Captain America_.”

Derek feels the back of his neck tingle with warmth at the implication, but it’s Stiles who answers for him. He’s only marginally grateful. “Implying that I won’t spoil the entire thing before then?”

Scott rolls his eyes back to Stiles. “Implying that I _talk_ to you before then.” He turns around with a wave and walks away, grinning to himself.

“You can’t stay away, Scott McCall!” Stiles calls loudly after him, cupping his hands around his mouth. A few people at the tables around them glance their way. “Our love is inseparable! Mark my words! You’ll come crawling back to _me_!”

Derek can see the shake of Scott’s shoulders as he laughs, even as he walks through the exit.

And now they’re alone.

Stiles huffs, turning his attention back to Derek. “Well, my friends are still horrible.” He doesn’t look mad though.

“I like them,” Derek says, gathering his trash together.

“You probably only like them because they were giving me shit the _entire time_.” Stiles crosses his arms, practically about to pout. It’s a gesture Derek is already familiar with. Stiles acts five years old sometimes.

Derek shrugs and doesn’t answer. Stiles isn’t necessarily wrong.

“That _is_ why!” Stiles accuses, and Derek fixes Stiles with a look. _Really_.

“I knew Scott and Isaac before I knew you,” he explains even though he really doesn’t need to. “Don’t be childish.”

“I am not being childish.”

“If thinking that helps you sleep at night, go right ahead.”

Stiles purses his lips as he watches Derek. Derek ignores him as he cleans up, but the stare starts to make him uncomfortable, so he looks up and lifts a questioning brow at him.

“What.”

“We’re still on for the movie tonight, right?” Stiles asks, and Derek blinks. Where did that come from?

“Did I say otherwise?”

Stiles looks satisfied; the corner of his mouth lifts into a half-smile, and he winks at Derek. “Guess not.”

He stands up and Derek follows suit. Derek duly notes that they’re the same height. Though Stiles is more lean, his shoulders are just as broad. Derek’s previous assumption that Stiles’ tshirt was old seems more accurate now; he realizes that it’s pretty tight, mainly around the chest and biceps. It makes him look even more ridiculous.

They walk outside together. Stiles holds the door open for him with a dramatic flourish, and Derek barely acknowledges the gesture aside from a flat stare.

“Alright. I’ve got a paper that I _really_ need to finish,” Stiles frowns, walking backwards a few steps away from Derek.

“Don’t get on Reddit.”

Stiles snorts, a single eyebrow raised. “Will do. I’m not some kind of _idiot_ , Derek.” His words are definitely implying something that Derek doesn’t appreciate very much.

“Sure you aren’t.”

Stiles throws up both his middle fingers in farewell, but as he turns around, he manages to stumble over a crack in the pavement. He catches himself quickly enough. The damage is done.

“I meant to do that!” Stiles calls back over his shoulder, and Derek rolls his eyes.

“Sure you did.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna explore Cora/Lydia and Allison/Isaac/Scott more in later parts probably. As in I've already written smut for Cora/Lydia. (sunglasses emoji) 
> 
> My titles are very creative, I know, thank you. 
> 
> unbeta'd oops
> 
> Stiles' tattoos:  
> http://37.media.tumblr.com/1d70d67e9d9d2012cc9565d98db00328/tumblr_n1qs691WFm1re71vio1_400.jpg  
> http://24.media.tumblr.com/fee242c3b7824b4622ed315a1c684f1f/tumblr_moyoqmNfSG1r8walyo1_500.jpg  
> http://24.media.tumblr.com/9f481fe001997709a3637ed0c26b438c/tumblr_mv2uyoBO4L1s2t3xno1_500.jpg


End file.
